


Insecurities

by fandom_susceptible



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Comforting Ryan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Chad, M/M, Marriage, Mentions of Racism, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Pillow Talk, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_susceptible/pseuds/fandom_susceptible
Summary: Chad is told off by a racist old lady for marrying Ryan, and starts to question what similar people are saying to his husband behind his back.Ryan isn't having it.





	Insecurities

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't entirely know why I wrote this. I just really liked the idea of established Chyan talking about their contrasts and this happened.

     “Ryan?” Chad asked softly, early one Saturday morning when they had been woken by the sun in the window they’d forgotten to cover.

     “Hmm?” Ryan was trying to cling to his doze, snuggled up to his husband.

     “Are you . . . I mean . . . we’re so different . . .  does it ever bother you?  I mean, I know our different interests and the sports and the singing and stuff doesn’t bother you, but like, going out to those high class restaurants and socialite parties.  The way people look at us.  Does that ever . . .” He tried to find new words and failed. “Bother you?”

     Ryan shifted on his arm so he could see Chad’s face without raising his head. “Why would it?”

     Chad looked away. “I know there are people in those circles that don’t care about your sexuality but they look at me differently anyway because I’m black.  You have a really whitewashed background, honey, you have to admit.”

     “I do.” Ryan said, reaching over to trace a pattern onto his chest. “What exactly are you saying, though, Wildcat?  You think I’m racist?”

     “No!” Chad looked at him in surprise. “No, of course not.  I just wondered if the racist people in your world—our world—ever bother you about . . . us.”

     Ryan gave him an odd look. “Do the racist people in your world bother _you_ about us?” He asked. “There are racist blacks, too, you know.”

     “I know there are, I know a few.” Chad dismissed it. “I just . . . I chose not to socialize with those people.  You’re kind of obligated by the society you grew up in.  I was just . . . curious, that’s all.” But he wouldn’t meet Ryan’s gaze.

     “Chad, sweetheart, what brought this on?” Ryan touched his face.

     Chad took his hand in a larger, darker one and studied their interlinked fingers. “Last week when we were over at Sharpay’s . . . there was this older woman there.  Very white, very racist.  I’ve dealt with the looks before, but that was the first time someone ever came up to me and straight up told me I was wrong to manipulate or force a poor innocent white boy to marry me.”

     “Oh Chad.” Ryan impulsively hugged him. “I’m no innocent, honey, believe me.” He said sadly.

     “I know.  I just . . . the contrasts between us . . .” Chad propped himself up, eyes traveling up and down the still relaxed, pliant form of Ryan’s body. “I mean, you’re white, you’re gay, you’re privileged—you’ve got enough money even when we were young that you could do just about whatever you wanted.  Your hands . . . everything about you screams ‘prince’.  White, small, delicate looking but strong . . .”

      Ryan rubbed one of his husband’s arms. “I really don’t care, sweetheart.  No, that’s not true, I do care, and if that makes me racist than I’ll stay that way.  I _love_ the differences, Charles Corbin Danforth.  I love the contrast.  Touching you and seeing your darkness, letting you touch me and thinking I really need to get a tan . . .” He gave a slight smile there and leaned up to kiss Chad briefly. “And sweetheart your hands are perfect.  No, they’re not the delicate piano fingers, but honey, I love the way they feel on my skin.  Your hair is perfect to dig my fingers into and hold on.  Your eyes—so deep and warm—you are gorgeous and perfect, my love.”

      Chad gave a crooked little smile. “Nah, baby.  You are.”

      “We could go back and forth on that all day.  You are perfect _for me_.” Ryan amended.

     Chad gave another small smile. “And you’re perfect for me.” He bent to kiss his husband again. “But those people, baby . . .”

     Ryan laid a finger on his lips. “Chad, honey, please stop.  We’re never going to get away from people who look at us differently.  And that high society I’m from is a big culprit.  But _no_ , their opinions do not bother me.  If anything, they amuse me.  I love you, I love the way you look, I love the way you feel, and yeah there are things you do that I don’t especially care for, but I love you anyway.  I’m sure I do things that annoy you, too.  But we’ve chosen to look past those things.” He removed the finger to rest his hand on Chad’s cheek. “Here I am making speeches first thing in the morning.”

     Chad lowered his head to rest on Ryan’s shoulder, face by his neck.  His lips lightly brushed the pale skin there. “Thank you, Ryan.  I _wish_ I could do that—find a way to tell you everything I feel.  I’m just not good with words.” He kissed the smaller man’s neck again, feeling Ryan’s hands come to rest on his sides. “Thank you.”

     One hand left his side to tangle in his dark, curly hair. “Feel better, love?” Ryan asked tenderly.

     The older man shifted to see his face and smiled softly down at him. “Yes.” He said honestly. “I love you so much, I can’t . . . I can’t even tell you.” He leaned his forehead on his husband’s. “You are my everything, Ryan Lucas Evans.”

     He could feel Ryan’s smile. “I love you too, Chad.” He breathed, before tilting his head to seal their lips together, fingers tangling in the curly hair and holding Chad close to him.

     Chad clung to the contact, welcoming the tug on his hair, enjoying the open mouth beneath him.  His hand slid under to cup Ryan’s nape while the other hand slid under his shoulders; Ryan remained pliant, just kissing him like it was the last thing he would ever do.  The two held on for several minutes, with brief pauses for breath but never a loss of contact.

     And if they stayed that way for the majority of the morning, wrapped up in one another’s soft kisses and embrace, well, who was going to stop them?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been criticized and even harassed for utilizing the term "racism" to refer to prejudice based on race lines. I respect that this is not the same thing, but I also refuse to sacrifice colloquial accuracy for political correctness. The average person, in a comfortable conversation at home, often does not bother to separate the two even though they understand the difference.


End file.
